


Crime of the Heart

by Griselda_Gimpel



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: F/F, Humor, Light BDSM, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22517011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Griselda_Gimpel/pseuds/Griselda_Gimpel
Summary: Huntress makes you want to commit crimes, so you do.
Relationships: Huntress/Reader - Relationship
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	Crime of the Heart

You are robbing a bank in Gotham City. Getting in was easy; you waited until dark and then used TNT to blast through all obstructive walls. You can’t hear the silent alarm that you know must be blaring, but that’s all part of the plan. You take a moment to adjust the domino mask that covers your eyes and then begin filling burlap sacks with hundred-dollar bills from the vault. You have two sacks. They have the $ sign painted on the side. You used a stencil to achieve that effect. You are still filling the burlap sacks with money when _she_ arrives.

She got black hair and black cargo pants and a black binder that taunts you with what it’s concealing. She’s also got a black crossbow she’s pointing at your chest.

“Drop the money,” she orders.

“Make me,” you say, but “make” isn’t the verb you’re thinking in your head. You stick out your lower lip in a pout and tilt your head in the manner you practiced at home in the mirror. She stares at you, and all of a sudden you’re reconsidering the supervillain costume you chose. You thought a cuttlefish theme would invoke the inherent eroticism of the sea, but you’re worried now that maybe Huntress doesn’t go for tentacles. Also, there was a brief shower earlier, and the cloth tentacles you sewed so carefully to your hat are hanging heavily in your face. Still, you haven’t done as she’s instructed, which means she’s going to have to do something.

She doesn’t disappoint when she does. She fires her crossbow at your feet, and when you’re distracted, she deftly brings both your hands behind your back, restraining them with a pair of handcuffs you didn’t even see her produce. You struggle a bit, so she’ll have to grab you more to keep you under control.

It’s over far too quickly for your desires, and Huntress spins you around, tearing off both your cuttlefish-inspired hat and your domino mask. She peers at you in the dim light of the Gotham night and then moves her face closer to hers. You’d scripted out some witty repertoire beforehand, but you forget it all now. Her face is so close to yours that she could kiss you if she wished.

She doesn’t. Instead she asks, “Didn’t I arrest you last week?”

“No,” you lie. Your voice is an octave higher than usual, and your heart is pounding so hard you can barely hear your own denial.

“I did!” Huntress insists. “Only you had a cow costume on that time. With sewn on udders.”

You don’t say anything, and Huntress takes you over to the closest police station. She leaves you tied up outside with a note. In the morning, the cops find you. You bribe them with a half-eaten Snickers bar and are released without charge. You go home, back to your day job and begin planning out your next costume.

You think that you had the right idea about the inherent eroticism of the sea and were only off track with the tentacles. You put together a lobster costume. You think you remember reading somewhere that lobster is an aphrodisiac. The costume’s bright red with extra legs sewn on to your stomach area and two pinchers that slip on over your hands. Nobody questions you as your head toward the closest fine jewelry shop. It’s _Gotham_.

The window of the jewelry shop breaks under the strength of your punch, and the pincher gloves protect your hands from the shattered glass. As you leisurely picked up a diamond from the display case, you hear a superhero land on the ground behind you. You grin and then turn around.

Batman is standing before you.

You stop grinning.

“Go away,” you tell him angrily.

“I can’t let you rob this jewelry store,” he growls at you.

“I am not,” you respond, waving the pilfered diamond in his face for emphasis.

He doesn’t give a verbal response, and you soon find yourself in a Gotham police holding cell once more. Thankfully, the cops forget to lock your cell. You shout “Look over there!” and slip out while they are distracted.

You spend all of your free time the next week putting together a pangolin costume. The sea, you decided, was a mistake. Worried that Huntress might miss you in the poor night lighting, you spray paint the entire costume hot pink. The lipstick you apply is hot pink as well, and you head to the city’s water main. In your hand is a large bottle with the skull and crossbow sign on it. Despite its looks, there’s nothing in it but tap water. You wave it in the air for emphasis.

This time, the correct hero confronts you, and your heart beats faster as Huntress aims her crossbow to shoot the bottle out of your hand. Before she fires, another hero lands next to her, but it’s not Batman this time. It’s Black Canary. As the two heroes stare you down, the possibilities flood your mind. You grow light-headed and faint.

When you awake, you are already in jail, and the two lovely heroes are long gone. You missed all the fun of your own arrest.


End file.
